


First Time for Everything

by purewanderlust



Series: Three Simple Steps (To Falling in Love With Your Kid Brother) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 02:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purewanderlust/pseuds/purewanderlust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam experiences lots of firsts growing up. Good thing his big brother is there to help him along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Time for Everything

They're staying at one of Daddy's friends' houses and Dean hates it there. It smells funny and Kate keeps trying to give him peas at dinner. He hates peas. He wants to go home.  
  
Every time he tries to tell Daddy this, though, his father gets a pinched look on his face and says "Dean, our home is gone, remember?"  
  
"And Mommy too?" the toddler asks again, just to be sure. His father's eyes flood with tears.  
  
"And Mommy too."  
  
Dean's smart for his age, so by the second week he's learned to stop asking. He tries to be quiet and helpful, and even eats the peas Kate sits in front of him. Anything to keep that sad, pinched look off of Daddy's face.  
  
But one afternoon, it gets to be too much. Daddy's gone somewhere, and Kate is watching the boys. She's turned on the television for Dean and put Sammy on the floor on a soft blanket and is folding clothes at the table behind the couch.  
  
Sammy's gurgling happily to himself, and for a while Dean is content to watch his baby brother try to push himself up from where he's laying on his tummy. But then, on the TV, Peter Pan starts talking about how he doesn't need a mother and Dean just can't help it. He starts to cry.  
  
"Oh no!" Kate exclaims, darting over to the old set to switch the channel. "Dean, sweetheart--" and she stops mid-sentence. Sammy's pulled himself up on to his hands and knees and is inching determinedly towards his big brother. He only makes it a few feet before he wobbles and drops back down to the floor, exhausted, but Kate is beaming.  
  
"Oh, Dean! Your brother first time trying to crawl and he comes straight to you!"  
  
Dean isn't entirely sure of the significance, but he closes the rest of the distance to his little brother and pulls the baby gently into his lap.  
  
He feels a little bit better.  
  
*  
  
"Dee?" The inquisitive sound comes from where baby Sammy's pop-up crib is set up in the corner of the motel room, but Dad doesn't look up from the pile of newspaper clippings in front of him. Dean, however, is up in a flash, crossing to the playpen and stretching up on tiptoe to peer over the edge.  
  
"Sammy? Did you just talk?"  
  
The baby studies him with serious hazel eyes for moment before a huge grin spreads across his face. "Dee!" he declares.  
  
"Daddy! Sammy said my name!" Dean squeaks, excitement getting the best of him, "I was Sammy's first word!"  
  
His father is looking up at them now, a smile on his face, but his eyes are still sad. "Well I guess we know who his favorite is."  
  
"Dee! Dee! Dee!" Sam chirps happily, stretching his pudgy baby hands towards his brother. Dean's not tall enough to lift him out of the pen, so he clambers over the side instead, and kisses the top of his brother's downy head.  
  
He's happier than he can ever remember being.  
  
*  
  
They live in a different motel now, but Dean likes it better than the last one, the one where Sammy said his first word. This motel has beds that vibrate when you put coins in and Dean likes to sit on them and pretend he's in an earthquake.  
  
He's quite put out that, even though he's already five that he has to wait until next fall to go to kindergarten, but Dad just tells him that he has to watch out for Sammy, so Dean spends his days feeding his brother, changing him, giving him baths while Dad writes in his journal and mutters under his breath.  
  
Sammy usually chases Dean around the motel room at a fast crawl, like a puppy, but lately he's starting pulling himself to his feet, using the edge of the bed, or the leg of the table to balance. On one occasion, he does this by Dad's chair, but Dad doesn't notice when he starts to wobble, so he ends up falling and hitting his head on the table leg, letting out an earth-shattering shriek and bursting into tears.  
  
"Dad!" Dean snaps when this happens, dashing to Sam's side and scooping him up and using the hem of his t-shirt to wipe at his little brother's tears, "Pay attention."  
  
Dad does look pretty sorry, so Dean leaves it at that, but he doesn't let Sammy out of his sight when his brother is trying to stand up anymore, either.  
  
And a good thing, too, because two weeks after he hits his head, Sam pulls himself to his feet and lets go of the chair  _on purpose_. Dean's halfway there to catch him when Dad's hand comes down on his shoulder.  
  
"Wait, Dean, watch," he whispers, "He won't learn if you don't let him fall sometimes."  
  
But Sammy isn't falling. He's swaying slightly, but he seems to be fairly sturdy on his feet. As soon as his little brother realizes this, he claps his hands together and gives a delighted giggle.  
  
"Can he walk now?" Dean asks in a quiet voice, afraid that speaking too loudly might knock Sammy's feet from under him.  
  
"He'll try." Dad says, then stretches his arms out towards the baby, "Sammy, come here!"  
  
Sammy cocks his head questioningly. "Dada?" he says a little skeptically.  
  
"Come here, Sammy!" Dean repeats his father's words. His brother perks up instantly.  
  
"Dee!" he takes a single step and then stops, wobbling dangerously and looking a little scared.  
  
"It's okay, Sammy, you can do it!" Dean stretches his arms out towards his brother and Sammy takes four more halting steps towards him before he pitches forward.  
  
Dean catches him before he can hit the floor and Sammy laughs, pressing a slobbery kiss to his big brother's chin. "Dee!"  
  
"You did such a good job, Sammy!" Dean glances up at Dad, eyes shining, "He did a good job, didn't he, Daddy?"  
  
John smiles down at his boys. "Yes, he did."  
  
*  
  
Walking is the like the portal to being a grown-up or something, because before Dean knows it, Sammy is running and climbing and jumping.  
  
*  
  
Suddenly, four years have passed. Sammy can read a little bit now, and Dean knows how to shoot a gun. This is important, because now Dean also knows all about the monsters that are out there and as far as he can tell, he couldn't protect Sammy from most of them without weapons. He sleeps with a knife under his pillow, arms wrapped tightly around his baby brother. Let those monsters see if they can get his Sammy.  
  
Dad's hunting a kelpie, which Dean has figured out is a kind of monster that pretends to be a horse so it can drown and eat you. The creature has been moving between a cluster of small towns in northeastern Missouri, traveling along the Mississippi River and making it very hard for Dad to catch. Finally, he rents a cheap apartment in Bowling Green, because it's almost August and this time Sammy will be going to school along with Dean.  
  
Dad isn't around the apartment very much, but that's okay, because the grocery store is just three blocks away and Dean has gotten very good at cooking Spaghetti-Os and soup. Sam and Dean spend their night curled up together in their shared bed, slowly reading through the handful of books Dean has managed to steal from libraries across the country.  
  
One such night, only two weeks before school is supposed to start, Sammy tearfully tells his brother that he doesn't want to go to school because his pants are too short and his shoes pinch. When Dean realizes that Sam's worried about the other kids making fun of him, he reassures his little brother with a kiss on the forehead and heads determinedly back into the living room. He sits at the table until Dad gets home and then makes quick work of convincing his father, patching up the long gash on his shoulder blade at the same time. John gives Dean a handful of crumpled bills and tells him to take Sammy into the Goodwill to find some new shoes and clothes for both of them tomorrow.  
  
"There's enough there for sodas from the gas station, too." he says, "Come straight home after you're done and hold your brother's hand while you cross the street." Dean knows the last part is coming, but he listens carefully anyway. "Take care of Sammy."  
  
Dean wakes his brother up early the next morning, the wad of cash burning a hole in his pocket. "C'mon, Sammy, we're gonna go get you some school clothes."  
  
Sam's eyes snap open and his studies Dean's face, like he's trying to decide how to react. "Really?" Then Dean nods and his face crumples into a happy smile. "Okay."  
  
They spend an hour in the little Goodwill down the road and Dean manages to scrounge up four or five fairly nice outfits for his little brother, and a new pair of sneakers to replace the ancient ones with peeling velcro. He only has enough left after that for one new pair of jeans for himself, but that's okay, and he likes his boots just fine anyway.  
  
Sam links their elbows together on the walk back and smiles at Dean around the lip of his orange Crush bottle. "Will you teach me how to tie shoelaces when we get home?"  
  
Dean's just so happy his little brother needs him that the next two hours of bunny-ears-round-the-tree-under-the-roots don't even bother him.  
  
When they walk to the elementary school together for the first time, two weeks later, Sam's laces are in perfect bows and Dean swells with pride and gives his hand a squeeze before they have to part ways.  
  
*  
  
The spring after Dean spills the family secret to his brother, they relocate to Portland temporarily, and suddenly bicycles are the only thing Sammy wants to talk about.  
  
"Deeeeean, I want a bicycle," he says as they're walking home from school one afternoon. Dean goes to school in a different building now, and he hates it, not being able to slip down the hallway and reassure himself of his brother's safety. Getting out of his last class and running down the block to the elementary school to meet up with Sam is easily the best part of his day.  
  
Dean sighs. "Sammy, we don't have a place for one and you'd just have to get rid of it when we move again. 'Sides, you really want to learn how to ride a bike at  _nine_?"  
  
"It'd fit in the 'pala trunk," Sam says stubbornly, ignoring the second question, "If it can fit corpses, it can fit bikes."  
  
Dean winces, unsure if he's more bothered by the fact that Sam uses the word 'corpse' at nine, or that his brother's actually seen one. "We need that space for other stuff, Sammy."  
  
Sam slumps against his shoulder suddenly, and Dean trips sideways before he catches his balance. "Yeah, I know. Sorry, Dean."  
  
He's not even asking anymore, but Dean still can't bear to say no to his baby brother.  
  
Dad's out of town and they aren't expecting him back for at least three days, so the next morning Dean gets up before Sam's awake and creeps out, down to the garage sale down the street that he's been seeing signs for all week. Sure enough, there's a bike amidst the clutter, a little rust around the handlebars, but the chain is good and the tires hold air.  
  
"How much for the bike?" he asks the little old lady manning the sale, giving her his most innocent look. She beams at him.  
  
"Oh, sweetheart, for you, fifteen dollars."  
  
It's better than Dean could have hoped for, and he doesn't even try to bargain for lower before he forks over the cash, half of what he'd won from Brian Miller on Friday betting over arm wrestling matches.  
  
He takes the long way home, mainly so he can try to figure out how to ride the damn thing himself. The only bike he remembers melted in a far-off Kansas garage before the training wheels were even taken off, but it wouldn't do for him to try and teach Sam without some idea of what he's doing.  
  
He crashes into the bushes twice and scrapes his palms up pretty good after one spectacularly bad wipeout, but eventually he gets the hang of it. Good thing too, because he's reached the tiny house they're currently renting, and Sam is sitting out on the front steps, looking off in the other direction.  
  
Dean hops off the bike quickly and walks it towards the house. "Hey, Sammy, you finally decide to get out of bed, lazybones?"  
  
Sam turns, probably to remind him that it's Saturday and Dean should've woken him if he wanted him to run drills, but he freezes with his mouth half open when he sees the bike.  
  
"Where'd you get that?" he demands.  
  
Dean shrugs, "Bought it," he says as casually as he can, "But you're in charge of getting rid of it before we move again, okay?"  
  
Sam's face cracks into a grin so bright that it almost hurts to look at him, and launches himself at Dean, wrapping his arms around his brother's waist. "You're the best, Dean!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Dean says, hoping Sam won't notice how pink his ears are, "Do you wanna learn how to ride it or what?"  
  
His brother releases him with a nod. "You'll help me?"  
  
"That's what I'm here for, Sammy."  
  
They practice at it all afternoon. Dean jogs alongside the bicycle and catches it every time Sam looks like he's about to fall, ignoring the voice in his head saying that pain is a good tool for learning. It sounds suspiciously like his father's voice.  
  
By mid-afternoon, Sam can get all the way to the end of the street without falling and is working on turning. Dean waits at one end of the sidewalk while his brother does a wobbling turn, like when he was just learning to walk, he bikes smoothly down the sidewalk to Dean, backpedalling to break at the same time his brother grabs the handlebars with a whoop.  
  
"You did it, Sammy! That's gotta be the fastest anybody ever learned how to ride a bike!"  
  
Sam's face splits into another sunshine-bright grin and Dean thinks up all the ways he can keep putting it there forever.  
  
*  
  
Dad and Bobby have taken off together, to hunt a black dog ( _Never hunt a black dog, solo, son, remember that_ ), leaving Sam and Dean to fend for themselves back at Bobby's place.  
  
Dean's feeling a little resentful about the whole thing. Sure, Bobby's house is spacious and there's plenty of room for Dean to tinker with his baby (the Impala being the single greatest birthday present any 17 year old could ever imagine), but he doesn't get why Dad had taken Bobby as backup instead of Dean.  
  
When he'd tried to ask, all John would say is "You need to take care of your brother."  
  
So Dean's feeling a little annoyed and directs his frustration at Sam.  
  
"Wish you'd hurry up and get all grown so I can go on proper hunts."  
  
"I'm sorry, Dean, I'm not the one who said you couldn't go!" Sam finally snapped, "I'm 13, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Dad's an idiot."  
  
"Sammy." Dean says warningly, just like he does every time Sam criticizes their father.  
  
"Fine, whatever, be a jerk. I'm going to bed." It's barely eight o'clock, so Dean knows he actually means 'going to read until I pass out,' which is just fine with him, so he doesn't try to stop Sam as he stomps upstairs to their shared bedroom, stalking over to the couch and flinging himself down onto the cushions.  
  
He stays there for hours, his attention arrested by a copy of  _On the Road_  he spotted sticking out of one of Bobby's many bookcases. Dean and Sal. Hah. He wants to mock it, but he's engrossed before he knows it, and suddenly the clock is chiming two and only then does Dean realize how tired he is.  
  
"Holy crap." he mutters to himself as he climbs the stairs, "Gotta go to bed."  
  
Sam's out like a light in the bed over by the window, and Dean doesn't even bother getting undressed before getting into his own bed, toeing off his boots and collapsing on top of the blankets.  
  
When he wakes up, it feels like hardly any time has passed, and it turns out he's right. The alarm clock glows up at him, reading  _2:47_ and for a moment, Dean wonders what woke him. Then he hears the tiniest whimper from across the room.  
  
His eyes dart to Sam's face, but even in the near darkness, he can tell that his brother's still asleep. A nightmare, maybe?  
  
That theory's shot out of the water when Sam lets out a wordless moan and presses the heel of his hand down on his crotch.  
  
Dean's frozen, unsure what to do, so he continues to stare at his brother's face, listening to the tiny hitches in his breathing and trying desperately to ignore the heat curling low in his own stomach.  
  
It can't be more than a few minutes before Sam's body snaps tight like a rubber band and he slumps back against the pillows with a groan, but to Dean it feels like hours. He flops over on his stomach, staunchly refusing to do anything about his own, unnerving arousal. Suddenly, he feels nauseous.  
  
He'd been there for a lot of Sammy's firsts, but God help him, he'd never planned to play witness to  _that_  one.


End file.
